


i thought it would no more take on a new direction

by seeingrightly



Series: you make me think that you will change my life forever [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M, trans stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 00:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: Matilda points with her elbow toward the small basket that holds her nail polish. Hermann leans down to pick it up. He’s never looked through it, but he can tell which of the colors at the top of the basket he hasn’t seen her wear before. One of them is a pretty, pale eggshell blue that Hermann holds in his hand until Matilda speaks and startles him.“I can do yours next if you want,” she says, understated in the way a teenager can only manage by trying very hard to sound as such.“Oh,” Hermann says.





	i thought it would no more take on a new direction

**Author's Note:**

> this series is just going to devolve into really specific projections
> 
> title is as always from "i've been waiting for you" (mamma mia version this time)

 

 

 

Hermann finds it hard to believe sometimes still that he’s become the kind of person who lounges around in his pajamas on weekends until he needs to leave the house, but it’s a hard habit not to give into when he shares a home with two people who do it. He’s trying to get some grading done, even though it’s still Saturday morning, but the pajamas are not encouraging for his work ethic and neither is the laughter coming from down the hallway. With a sigh, though a rather happy one, he gives up on productivity for now and goes to investigate, shuffling down the hall in his slippers.

Matilda and Newt are sitting on the floor of her room, in their pajamas as well, and she’s painting his fingernails. It’s a deep purple this time, more in line with Newt’s usual style, and doesn’t match the green that’s still on her toes.

“Hey,” Newt says when he notices Hermann. “I messed up my nails at work and this one bought some new colors when we went to the grocery store the other day.”

“‘This one’ is an odd way to refer to yourself, Newton,” Hermann says, coming into the room and sitting down on the end of Matilda’s bed.

She automatically reaches out for his cane and sets it on the floor, most of her attention still on Newt’s nails.

“I can get you a pillow so you can join us down here, babe,” Newt says, reaching out toward Hermann’s leg, but Matilda’s smacks at his arm and he returns his hand to his knee, where it’s meant to be drying.

“I’ll get the pillow,” she says imperiously.

“No, no, I’m fine up here,” Hermann says. “Continue.”

Matilda sticks her tongue out slightly as she bends over Newt’s hand. There’s nail polish all over her fingers. She lets out a noise of frustration, and then gasps rather dramatically, sitting up to look at Hermann with her eyes wide.

“You’re here now!” she says. “You can put my hair up!”

“Of course, dear,” Hermann replies, reaching into the pocket of his robe.

There are hair ties everywhere; it’s a simple fact of life at this point. He’s fairly certain he’s able to produce one simply by wishing for it and then sticking his hand somewhere new. Matilda scoots around on the floor until her back is to Hermann, and he pulls her hair up as best he can. He’s gotten much better at it than he used to be; he hasn’t put up his sister’s hair in many years, and his own in even more. When Matilda shifts again to face Newt, the bun is clearly lopsided, but it holds, so Hermann approves.

“What other colors did you buy?” he asks. “That is not a generalized ‘you,’ to be clear.”

“We know, honey,” Newt says, more amused than anything. “We each picked a couple of colors.”

Matilda points with her elbow toward the small basket that holds her nail polish. Hermann leans down to pick it up. He’s never looked through it, but he can tell which of the colors at the top of the basket he hasn’t seen her wear before. One of them is a pretty, pale eggshell blue that Hermann holds in his hand until Matilda speaks and startles him.

“I can do yours next if you want,” she says, understated in the way a teenager can only manage by trying very hard to sound as such.

“Oh,” Hermann says.

He places the basket on the bed next to him, but he keeps one hand on it, looking at it out of the corner of his eye. It really is a pretty color.

Hermann has never considered himself especially masculine in any traditional sense. But he has always taken the care to avoid doing things that might prevent him from passing. He’s more educated now, and doesn’t value that as much anymore, intellectually or emotionally, for many reasons, but he hasn’t actually changed his behavior yet. He hasn’t felt the need to, and he thought that meant he wasn’t confining himself anymore, but rather just being himself.

He wants to see what this nail polish looks like on his fingers. Maybe he’ll hate it; maybe he’ll like it, but won’t want to wear it out of the house. He can remove it. He can try it.

He picks the bottle back up.

“I suppose we’ll need that pillow,” he says, and Matilda leans her head against his knee.

He runs his hand over her hair, a gesture he knows he’s picked up from Newt, and after a moment she pulls back to finish her father’s nails.  
  
“Are you actually gonna stay still and not mess them up this time?” she asks as she finishes applying the second coat.   
  
“Probably not, bud,” Newt replies, and she sticks her tongue out at him.   
  
“Okay, let those dry for a minute and then I’ll add the top coat,” she says, and then she gets up.   
  
She grabs a paper towel from the roll sitting next to her and scrubs at the nail polish on her hands halfheartedly before grabbing a pillow off the bed, which makes both Hermann and Newt wince. She places the pillow on the floor and then holds out her hands to Hermann. Once they’re both sitting, she grabs the nail polish he chose and shakes it before opening the bottle. 

“Do you remember what it used to look like when you painted your own nails when we first met?” Hermann asks.

Matilda scrunches up her whole face and laughs as she grabs Hermann’s fingers in her own, leaning forward. She hasn’t inherited her father’s steady, precise hands, but she focuses intently and immediately wipes away any errors the way Hermann remembers professionals doing it.

“Aw,” Newt says. “You used to use up like half a bottle just painting your nails one time. And your nails were tiny then.”

“They weren’t _that_ tiny,” Matilda mutters.

She takes Hermann’s hand and places it on his knee with his fingers splayed before moving to the other one.

“They _were_ rather small,” Hermann adds, and Matilda lets out a dramatic huff. “Practically miniscule.”

“Microscopic,” Newt continues, and Hermann laughs. “And look at you now! Teenager-sized finger nails!”

“Okay, I get it,” Matilda says, this time genuinely verging on annoyed. “I was a baby and now I’m not a baby.”

Hermann exchanges a look with Newt. It’s easier sometimes to drop a topic, and they _were_ being annoying on purpose. She seems to get over it by the time she finishes Hermann’s second hand and turns back to her father.

“This is a quick-dry top coat but you still have to let it dry for a minute or two before you move,” she says.

“You told me that last time,” Newt says

“You didn’t listen to me last time.”

“Point.”

After his nails are done, Newt goes to check if there’s anything in the house to make for lunch, kissing them both on the top of the head as he stands. Hermann doesn’t like that he’s left, because there’s less distraction, and he winds up watching closely as Matilda works on his nails. He doesn’t want to think about how he feels about it until she’s done.

“I’m not going to be upset if you take it off,” she says, like she’s read his mind. “I’m happy you decided to try something you might wanna do.”

Hermann leans forward, careful to keep his balance, and kisses her forehead.

“Looks like we’ve got something to talk about at our first parent-child support group meeting, hm?” he says.

Matilda smiles but doesn’t say anything. She looks a little embarrassed, like she doesn’t want the attention she knows she’s about to get.

“What?” Hermann asks.

Matilda turns her face into her shoulder before she speaks.

“You’re my step-dad,” she mumbles.

“Come here,” Hermann says, holding out his arms.

“Be careful!” Matilda says, but she crawls over and sits as close as she can while still being cautious about his leg.

She leans against his chest and wraps her arms around his middle, and he presses his face to her hair and makes sure to hold his fingers so that they won’t touch anything.

“Love you,” she says.

“And I love you, my darling girl.”

They stay that way for a minute or so until Matilda insists on checking that his top coat has dried and he hasn’t wrecked anything.

“I’m going to go check on your father,” Hermann says once she’s satisfied with him.

When he enters the kitchen, Newt has his head in the fridge and his rear sticking out, so Hermann gives him a fond pat as he walks past. He goes to retrieve plates from the cabinet, but then he catches sight of his nails. It’s foolish, but he wasn’t expecting it.

He thinks he likes the flash of color. Most of him is usually buttoned-up and severe - he knows this, and he doesn’t dislike it - but that’s not all of what he is. There’s an appeal to this hint that he’s something more than a first glance would reveal; he’s just not sure if he’s comfortable with what people might guess, depending on the character of who’s doing the guessing. It’s one thing to tell people he trusts or even strangers within a defined space, and another to invite anyone to pay that kind of attention to him.

Newt sidles up behind Hermann at the kitchen counter, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You know what you look kinda like?” Newt asks, mirroring the gesture with his own hand. “When someone gets engaged and they keep looking at the ring.”

Newt means it innocently, and used ungendered language where most people wouldn’t, but Hermann still feels an implication of the feminine in the statement. He doesn’t let his fingers curl into a fist and pull his hand away like he wants to, though, instead looking at their hands next to one another. Both of their nails are painted. Newt’s hand is smaller and softer. They’re just hands.

A beat late, Hermann registers the rest of what Newt had said.

“Is that something you want?” he asks. “Rings? If we get married?”

Newt jumps a little, his arm tightening around Hermann’s waist. He brings his fingertips, though, to Hermann’s ring finger, and then extends his own hand again in exactly the gesture he was just mimicking.

“Maybe,” he says, at length, quiet and pressed into the back of Hermann’s shoulder.

Hermann suspects that the answer is yes, but Newt hasn’t fully processed it yet. He knows that feeling.

“What about you?” Newt asks.

He places his hand on top of Hermann’s, linking their fingers together and curling them into Hermann’s chest.

“I don’t think I have strong feelings about it either way yet,” Hermann replies honestly. “I haven’t given it much thought. I will now, though.”

Newt nods where he presses his cheek against Hermann’s shoulder.

“You picked a good color,” Newt says. “By the way. It suits you.”

This is the type of comment he has been expecting. Something affirming, without any implication that Newt’s affirmation is a deciding factor. Hermann raises their joined hands so he can press a kiss to Newt’s knuckles.

“Thank you, my dear.”

He releases Newt, who goes back to the fridge. Hermann can’t tell if he’s actually found something for them to eat yet.

“Newton,” he says. “I know we’re supposed to have a date night tonight, but would you be open to rescheduling, or staying in?”

“Of course I’m _open_ to it,” Newt says. “We can do whatever you want, honey. Why, what’s up?”

“I’d like a little more time to decide if I want to keep the nail polish on or not when I go out,” Hermann says.

“Yeah?” Newt asks, looking at him over the door of the fridge. “Does that mean you like it?”

It’s a simple question. Hermann knows Newt knows they’re leaving countless complications unspoken; he knows Newt will accept whatever answer he gives, simple or nuanced. Newt would talk to him about this for days if that’s what he wanted, and maybe he will want to do just that, but not right now.

“I like it,” Hermann agrees, and Newt smiles at him, bright and proud and soppy as ever. “Do you require assistance in there?”

Newt steps back from the fridge and swings out an arm dramatically so that Hermann can join him. He rests his hand on Hermann’s hip.

“I thought you said you just went grocery shopping the other day,” Hermann says.

“I said we went to the grocery store,” Newt corrects sheepishly. “You worked late the last couple of nights and we got a little lazy without you.”

“A little,” Hermann mutters. “There’s nothing to bloody eat in here, Newton.”

He shuts the fridge and gives Newt a look.

“I’ll go to the store right now,” Newt says, moving in close and kissing his way up Hermann’s jaw. “You stay here and think about how nice your nails look and how much I love you and how much fun we’re gonna have tonight when Tilly goes to her sleepover, okay?”

“You’re lucky that you’re very attractive,” Hermann says, skating his hand up the back of Newt’s t-shirt. “And that I feed that child properly when you’re not home. Go get dressed, you fiend.”

They both ruin his statement simultaneously, Hermann by leaning in for a kiss and Newt by laughing. Their noses bump together a little painfully and Newt laughs again before he manages to slot their mouths together properly. Hermann doesn’t let it go on for too long, though, pushing Newt away bodily.

“Go,” he says again, pointing, and this time Newt listens, though he turns around in the doorway to smile at Hermann again.

Perhaps now Hermann can get some work done, but he expects the sight of his fingernails on the keyboard will be distracting. He thinks it will continue to be a happy distraction, though.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter at [coralbluenmbr5](https://www.twitter.com/coralbluenmbr5)  
> and tumblr at [ch3ry1b10ss0m](https://www.ch3ry1b10ss0m.tumblr.com)


End file.
